


Want

by Norriey



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, a bunch of stories following their relationship, it all takes place within the canon timeline, tfw ur one of 3 ppl creating content for this ship yes i do the cooking yes i do the cleaning, there isnt rly a plot i just love these Boys, this started out as a one shot but i dont wanna spam the tag......
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-05 14:14:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11015064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Norriey/pseuds/Norriey
Summary: "He wishes Reaper would take off his mask and let him devour those sounds."





	1. Chapter 1

Hanzo is always mesmerized by the way Reaper moves on his dick, hips circling and gyrating and abs clenching and unclenching, riding his cock like he was made for it. Reaper’s head is bent back, exposing the long column of his throat. Hanzo watches a bead of sweat trickle down his Adam’s apple, tries and fails to resist the urge to lick it clean. Reaper tastes like ashes burning on his tongue, laced with the sickly sweet odor of a corpse. Hanzo doesn’t mind, he wraps his arms around Reaper’s waist (he can nearly circle his arms around twice) and slows his pace, delighting in the feel of their sweaty bodies moving together, the rumble of Reaper’s grunts.

He wishes Reaper would take off his mask and let him devour those sounds. He settles for his collarbones, his neck, drags his nails against the other man’s back and feels and watches the welts and bruises form and vanish in the same breath. He curses Reaper’s condition; his curse that will never allow Hanzo to mark him up and truly  _ own _ him. The dragon in him yearns for it, the evidence of a coupling well done etched into his partner’s flesh so every movement reminds them who they belong to. Hanzo wants to  _ break _ Reaper, tear him limb from limb and consume his soul, remove all evidence that anyone else had touched Reaper and rebuild him into Hanzo’s own thing to use as he pleases. It’s a sick desire, perverse, even, but he has never denied the possessive streak within him, the cruel jealousy that manifests when he really, truly wants something.

Hanzo grabs the back of Reaper’s head and yanks it until his back bows. He soothes Reaper’s hisses with gentle kisses to his sternum, drifts left, then bites down on a nipple until he can feel the skin break. Reaper yelps, honest to god yelps, at that, and roughly shoves at Hanzo’s shoulders until he releases the poor nub with a raspy chuckle and falls back onto the pillows. The bone white of Reaper’s mask glares down at him as he presses a hand into Hanzo’s chest and sinks down fully onto his cock. Reaper burns so hot and feels like heaven and Reaper knows it, grinding his hips in little circles and rubbing Hanzo into his deepest places, and Hanzo can  _ feel _ his smug grin from behind the mask.

He wants to snatch it off, flip them over, and fuck Reaper until he’s putty underneath him, but it’ll never happen, and it excites him even more than his fantasies do. The harder the journey, the sweeter the reward, for one day, the last of Reaper’s will will crumble, and Hanzo will snatch him up and possess him like the greedy dragon he is.

But this is fine for now, watching Reaper fuck himself on an inch of cock and seeing his body move with all the grace of a man with far too much blood on his hands. Hanzo reaches up, traces a lazy line down his abs and onto his cock, grabs hold of it and pumps it in time with Reaper’s movements. It was enough; Reaper’s muscles clench around Hanzo and he spills all over his hand, marking the snarling dragon with stripes of white.


	2. Take Off Your Mask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What are you afraid of?"

“Take off your mask.”

Reaper looks over and sees Hanzo standing in the door, framed by the bright light in the hallway. His ever present frown deepens when he makes eye contact with the bottomless sockets of Reaper’s mask.

“Why?” came the answer. Hanzo stares for a few more moments, sighs in frustration, and unslings his bow and arrows from his back to rest them against the wall.

“I thought the answer would be obvious,” he grumbles, moving over to the bed and crawling over Reaper’s body, pressing several gentle kisses to his sternum.

“Not in the mood.”

Hanzo’s eyes flick upwards, irritated. “I don’t ask because I want to have sex with you, I ask because I want to see your face.” His hands travel to the back of Reaper’s head and fiddle with his hood. “Although, your mask is also rather inconvenient during that.”

Reaper reaches up to untie Hanzo’s topknot and card the tangles out his hair. There weren’t many. “A shame.”

The other man tosses his head and cradles the sides of Reaper’s face, teasing at the mask’s edges, ghosting at the clasps holding it in place. “I want to see you,” he ignores Reaper’s words with a whisper, his tone almost reverent.

Reaper lifts an unseen eyebrow; Hanzo is never so gentle. He goes for flippant, hoping Hanzo will change the subject, “You’re seeing me right now-”

“You know full well what I mean!” Hanzo snarls, sweetness abandoned in a flash of anger that rolls over him with all the suddenness of a thunderstorm. True to his nature, it dissipates quickly; he visibly deflates and sinks back down onto Reaper’s chest. “I want to see your face. It is a simple request.”

“Not so simple.” He resumes stroking through Hanzo’s hair, noting the slight coarseness in the strands. “There’s nothing under here you would want to see.”

“I will be the judge of that.”

“I’m a nightmare.”

He feels Hanzo shrug, “It has not stopped me so far.”

“ _I_ don’t even know what I look like under here.”

“Then we can learn together.” Hanzo sits up again, fixes him with a stare that is equal parts impatient and cautious. “What are you afraid of?”

“It’s not that I’m afraid, it’s…” Reaper pauses, searches for the words. Unbidden, hazy memories of _before_ float to the front of his mind, and he feels a pang of guilt so strong and so piercing he grunts and shifts around in place. Hanzo takes notice and splays his hands out on Reaper’s chest, then curls his fingers inward, repeating the motion in even intervals and looking for all the world like a cat kneading a pillow for comfort. It helps.

“It’s just… I’m... I don’t want… _him_ to come back,” he manages, waits for the judgement. There is none: Hanzo simply regards him evenly for a few moments, an unspoken bid to continue.

“I don’t want to be _him_ again.”

Arms reach out, one branded with the Shimada crest and another inked with a swirling storm dragon, to wrap around his shoulders. “Reaper,” Hanzo begins, “ _He_ is dead. _He_ died years ago. _He_ cannot come back.”

“I used to believe that,” he murmurs, “but I’m seeing ghosts everywhere. People who I _knew_ were dead returned to haunt me. Even now I feel _him_ at the edges of my mind, trying to claw his way out and rejoin the living. If this mask comes off… I don’t know if I can keep myself… myself.”

Hanzo had taken up stroking Reaper’s shoulders with the pads of his thumbs, rubbing lines into the cloak he wore everywhere now. His face had softened into something gentler than neutral, and once Reaper finished, he leans closer and kisses the mask’s forehead.

“I see. I was a fool; This is not merely a mask,.” Hanzo moves down to the beak and presses his lips there so firmly Reaper can feel the pressure against his own mouth, “This is your face.”

“Hanzo,” Reaper starts, watching Hanzo pull back with a frown. “I will show you,” he promises, “just not now.”

Hanzo cradles the side of his face, tenderness written into every feature. “Dragons do not forget such promises so easily,” he warns.

Reaper leans into it.

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember when this was a oneshot haha
> 
> i dont wanna clog up the tag w Just My Stuff so ill probs condense all the Reaper/Hanzo content here bc it all takes place in the canon universe and ill put my Gabriel/Hanzo stuff somewhere else since thats aus and things
> 
> follow me on twitter and yell at me @norrriey


	3. Ribbon tie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How do I look?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heads up for: choking, breathplay

When Reaper plucked the ribbon from Hanzo's hair and draped it around his shoulders, Hanzo nearly came right there. His fingers tighten in the meat of Reaper’s thigh, digging bruises that will heal by the time they are done deep into the muscle, and the flush on his cheeks crawls a few more inches towards his chest.

“How do I look?” comes the breathy rasp from above him. He’s smug, and he has every right to be: the ribbon falls neatly on either side of his chest, framing his pecs as they bounce and move with the force of Hanzo’s thrusts. Reaper takes one end and tosses it around his neck and over his other shoulder, then repeats the action with the other side, giving the appearance of a spun gold choker embroidered with gentle waves sitting snugly around his neck.

Hanzo sits up and presses his lips against the beak of Reaper’s mask. He suckles on the protruding bit, slips his tongue under and licks along the lining separating the hard plastic from the skin underneath. Though he can’t reciprocate, Reaper presses back, groaning at the slick sounds of Hanzo’s mouth working and slap of his hips. Once he deems Reaper sufficiently distracted, he reaches around, grabs the ends, and pulls the fabric taut, relishing in the choked-off gasp it gets him.

“Exquisite,” he growls, nearly feral with lust.

Hanzo doesn’t give praise lightly, and the edges of Reaper’s body blur as he nearly loses grip on his physical form. “More…” he rasps, leaning back and presenting his throat.

Hanzo lets go and pushes Reaper onto his back, grabs his legs and hooks them over his shoulders, then takes hold of the ribbon once again, pulling it tight like reins. Reaper’s hands fly to Hanzo’s wrists on instinct, but there’s no risk. Should something actually go wrong, Reaper could mist away. The knowledge that the stubborn, frustrating man underneath him is  _ willingly _ allowing Hanzo to strangle him drives him absolutely mad.

“Depraved old man,” he bites out, teeth gritted as he jackrabbits in and out of Reaper’s body, “Getting off on being choked with my ribbon. Have you lost all shame?”

Reaper lets out a small noise and scrabbles at Hanzo’s arms, chest, face, anything he can reach. His mask tilts down, and past its impassive glare, Hanzo can feel Reaper pleading with him, begging him to push just that much further to tip them both over the edge.

Very well.

He wraps the silk around his fist once and  _ pulls _ with all his strength. Reaper arches sharply off the bed, back bowing far enough to snap, and comes in thick white ropes all over the two of them. Hanzo doesn’t stop; he keeps the ribbon taut and continues thrusting, uncaring of whether he hit Reaper’s prostate or not. Whenever he does, Reaper gives an aborted jerk of his body and grabs at the sheets, as if to pull himself away, but otherwise goes boneless, lightheaded with pleasure and lack of air.

Hanzo curls over Reaper as he meets his end, clutching the ribbon in a vice grip as he finally comes.

“Filthy,” he grits out, breathless, pulling the fabric off Reaper’s neck and observing the angry marks left behind. He leaves one, two, three kisses over the other man’s throat, unable to keep his tenderness at bay.

“Asshole,” Reaper murmurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yell at me about reapzo on twitter @norrriey


End file.
